Extracurricular Activities
by Melpomene melancholica
Summary: a bunch of shorts and drabbles offering snapshots of life in the S.O.S Dan. you can find a sprinkle of harukyon and, to a lesser degree, of itsukyon if you want
1. Treatment: shaved ice

Disclaimer: Haruhi Suzumiya no Yuutsu is the creation and property of Nagaru Tanigawa, etc. There are no monetary gains whatsoever, I assure you. (If you want proof, see me languish in my day job.)

**Extracurricular Activities**  
**  
**

Treatment: shaved ice  
_August 4/ Hearts here are skipping a beat, o beautiful one_

It's afternoon and a school day. By this time, I should be standing outside the door, as likely as not with a certain unwanted companion, and trying not to picture the happenings inside the Literature club room. Instead of picturing the amount of clothes Suzumiya Haruhi had already gotten rid off, I'd be reciting the table of elements instead, or remembering as many numbers in pi as I could. (I could also be ranking the lovely Asahina-san's various outfits by amount of cleavage visible, but that wouldn't be a safe route to go.)

Speaking of outfits, I didn't really like the nurse/hospital attendant costume on my flawless senpai. The maid costume was my favorite, as it went well with the prodigious tea-making that was Asahina-san's specialty. Her already wearing the nurse outfit was one of the reasons why I felt a bit chagrined when I walked into a fully-infes—er, occupied headquarters.

"You're late, Kyon! Shaved ice for the whole SOS dan to show your dedication. Stat!"

That was the other reason.

"I just gave you an order, Kyon," Haruhi followed up almost immediately, still hidden by her workstation. "Move it!"

Why don't you move it? If I have to walk downhill for shaved ice, I won't get it here frozen no matter how I haul ass on the way back.

"Insubordination!" Haruhi popped up from behind the whirring computer monitor, a forbidding look on her pretty face and her pony tail bouncing. "I can't work with a person who won't trust my judgement. Koizumi-san, you be the P.A. instead."

PA? As in Prissy Ass-kisser?

"Physician's assistant," the smiley-faced bastard graciously— and unnecessarily—explained. "The president, of course, takes the doctor's role."

As if I couldn't tell by the white lab coat and the stethoscope looped around that looney girl's neck. It was too hot for lab coats and sweat glistened on her temples, making her look like she'd just stepped out from an intense, highly-dramatic scene in some medical drama. I had to admit, though. The black-rimmed spectacles was a. . . uh, compelling addition. Or maybe it was the glint of sunlight reflecting from it that's bothering my head.

Didn't I say before I'm not into megane-types?

Good. I was feeling kinda redundant there.

"We have one hour to acquire all of our instruments." Haruhi had, for the moment, forgotten about my imagined transgressions. "The best time to raid the clinic is at 1642 hours, when the school nurse will be in that inter-departmental meeting. Yuki-chan has our list of necessary supplies."

The said girl didn't even look up from her customary book, but she had a piece of paper right in front of her. Like a general briefing his underlings, Haruhi twisted smartly on those 4-inch stiletto heels and faced the reddening skies. Her ponytail bounced merrily, as if to punctuate her next words.

"Mikuru-chan, you remember the back-up plan."

"B-but–" came the dainty protest from the doe-eyed Asahina-san. "I don't think I can—"

"Don't worry about the buttons when you rip off the top part of the costume. It's getting too tight for you, anyway."

I almost choked. Well, the fabric _was_ being overstretched around the bust. . .

"Kyon—Kyon! Where do you think you're going?"

I'm getting you the shaved ice, you idiot. You're probably heat exhausted or something, and it's making you blather all this nonsense about stealing from the school clinic and bodice-ripping and—

Haruhi stamped her foot. I almost winced; imagine how much PSI is concentrated in that one deadly heel. I didn't exactly hate the offending shoe, as it made her leg look a mile long and, let's face it, Haruhi's legs weren't exactly shapeless or overly-muscular or particularly ugly or anything remotely like that.

. . . Maybe I got heat exhaustion, too. I'm not thinking straight here. I'm having palpitations and tachycardia and delusions. At some point, my heart'll probably go into ventricular fibrillation, and then into just pulse-less electrical activity— anyway, I'm sure just a single sweet kiss from the angel Asahina-san would promptly revive me, but then there's the world's well-being to worry about.

"Your malingering is sickening, Kyon. Why don't you just admit you want to abandon the club for some ice-cold, throat-tingling summer treat?"

And you don't?

"I'm saving lives here!" She harrumphed, once again setting the ponytail swinging like some hypnotic pendulum. "How many aliens do you think are out there? Trapped inside human bodies? See, that explains why we've never found one! When they come here on earth, they find they're unable to survive our atmosphere's make-up, so they have no choice but to borrow human bodies! We're saving two organisms per subject here, Kyon. This is serious business!"

So you're planning to randomly ambush innocent people on the streets and strip them naked to see if they're aliens in disguise.

"There'll be a sign somewhere. Like missing navels or a pig's tail."

I think you're confusing things with demon possessions. The way I'm confusing you for some young, hot-shot intern coming on to me like whoa.

. . . Okay. Now, let's all conveniently forget I just said that.

There was an awkward moment of silence.

"Shaved ice, you said?" Haruhi finally said, her petulant expression making her much too cute. "You're treating?"

What else could I say to that?

- 0040 08/05/07

A first attempt on Haruhi ficcing. I wasn't sure if I've gotten Kyon's voice right then, and I'm still not sure now. Written using a prompt from the LJ community 31days.


	2. Prank Called

Disclaimer: Haruhi Suzumiya no Yuutsu is the creation and property of Nagaru Tanigawa, etc. There are no monetary gains whatsoever, I assure you. (If you want proof, see me languish in my day job.)

**Extracurricular Activities**  
**  
**Prank Called  
_January 16 / It's sane enough, what I'm asking_

Standing beside a phone booth, waiting for a phone call, isn't something you'd usually find me doing. Phone booths are supposedly nearing extinction nowadays, especially since most people now carry either cellphones or PDA's all the time. That's not to say there's no longer any other way to communicate.There's good old snail mail, borrowing your neighbor's phone, checking email at work, those type of tactics. I have to admit, I got a little bit of a tingle up my spine while hunting for the specified phone booth I'm supposed to be by at exactly four in the afternoon. It just has an overall feel of one of those sci-fi shows they rerun after midnight, or one of those oldies spy flicks with their low-tech effects and cheesy music.

(Can you tell I've been spending too much time with a certain somebody?)

Of course, when it comes down to actually standing there, waiting for that supposed call you're not even sure is going to come, trying to look occupied with something productive, it becomes an entirely different game. I think I can tell you the stats of the all the baseball games so far this season, by now. I mean, the newspaper is not a bad read exactly, but I like it better slouched in a couch at home or slumped over a desk in the college library. Not to mention, there's this little old lady across the street who's been keeping tabs at my movement (or the lack thereof). I'd imagine she's a KGB agent, but that'll just make me feel even stupider. (Plus, there's this infuriating, teeny chance that it might be even true.) Now, if it were Asahina-san sitting in that rocker, knitting. . .

I'm kidding. Truth be told, I've graduated from my infatuation over the gracious Asahina-san when she graduated high school. Which isn't to say I don't spare an admiring glance or two her way whenever she visits us from wherever--er, whenever.

The phone jangles, startling me out of my pleasant daydreams. Finally. I stumble into the booth, hastily fling the door close behind me, and pick up the phone. The amiable voice coming through the copper line made me want to hurl the handset against the concrete pavement and hope that smiley-faced bastard loses an eardrum for it.

"I'm relieved you got my message."

Are you deliberately crapping up my life or are you just plain bat-shit crazy? What could you possibly want to tell me that you can't say on those idiotic Las Vegas postcards you've cryptically sent me daily for over a week?

"Oh, that was one of my colleagues. Sorry. He's been having trouble with his reality-testing skills, I think. I had to pass the message, as I am indefinitely indisposed inside a particularly unstable closed space."

Closed space? I pause to ponder carefully on this, trying to remember if there's been any untoward incidences involving one Suzumiya Haruhi. For some reason, my girlfriend's moods seems to be tied to the existence of these closed spaces, these new universes-in-the-making that are just waiting to ripen, burst, and erase the world as we know it. Of course, they also say that Haruhi's a goddess, a wrinkle in time, and a technological singularity. My hypothesis: the world's a gigantic ass and she's a mean, little boil sitting right above the crack.

"How was this previous Valentines Day?" Koizumi probes.

It was none of your business, and it still isn't. Why do you want to know, anyway?

"I was just trying to pinpoint the cause of her discontent, is all," the esper says thoughtfully.

It was nowhere near normal, that much I can tell you. I'm pretty sure Haruhi was happy about it. I certainly wasn't.

"Have you ever considered Suzumiya-san may also have your best interest in mind? What I mean to ask is, why do you presume she is happy about the fact that you are unhappy about something. You _have_ been going out for over a year now. What are your observations?"

I couldn't help but squirm at Koizumi's blatant assessment. I mean, the smiley bastard has a point. Maybe I haven't been giving Haruhi the benefit of the doubt any person deserves, but that's because she's Haruhi--she's not normal. And it isn't as if I'm implying that Haruhi enjoys my being unhappy, which I suppose she doesn't, even though that's what it feels like most of the time. I was just saying that it's just how things end up being. But, hey, we haven't fighting lately, not as much as before. If things stay smooth like this, I'm okay the way things are.

"You haven't been fighting lately?" the smile behind voice seems to have disappeared.

Isn't that supposed to be a sign of a healthy relationship? Like you said, we've been going out for over a year. Even getting to that stage has brought me to too many near-death experiences. And I'm only twenty-one, geeze.

(You know, I've always wondered whether this mysterious person really has a thing for Haruhi or is simply a spineless, boot-licker by nature. Man, I just keep having this urge to break his perfect teeth in. Do I have an anger problem?)

"Don't you think Suzumiya-san might be thinking you've been taking her for granted?"

I've been following her every irrational, painful whim! And I'm the one taking somebody for granted?

"But you've always been her lone dissenter, her doubting Thomas. Don't you think that role of yours is a crucial part of her life, therefore of her psychological well-being?"

Are you suggesting I pick a fight with her?

"Yes, I think you should be the one picking the fight once in a while."

Are you insane?

"Well, you know what the alternative will be."

And if you're wrong?

"I'll be the first one to find out."

That idiot smile was back again! I can feel it. Again, if only vandalism isn't a punishable offense, I'd really maim this phone right now, just because a certain somebody's windpipe is out of reach.

"Hmm. . . do you think Haruhi's the jealous type? How do you think she'll react if she finds out you've been receiving mysterious phone calls?"

. . . Why? Are you suggesting I provoke her like that? Man, that's like a cheap, old trick. If you're going to design some sort of scenario for the likes of Haruhi to inspire her more possessive side, you've got to go for something more smart and sophisticated. She'll smell a setup like that miles away.

"We're about to find out."

I look up to see the familiar strut of Suzumiya Haruhi as she approached my phone booth. I have to admit, with that ponytail swinging like the promise of a riding crop out for horse blood, she's a mighty fine sight. She's also wearing her trademark glare, and her arms are crossed in front of her, emphasizing a couple of her well-endowed parts.

"I trust, you'll be able to plan your making up, hereafter. It's none of my business after all. We're counting on you."

The receiver slips from my grip as the benevolent voice disappears to a busy tone, and Haruhi's now near enough for me to make out the outline of her sports bra against her white blouse and to know that she was breathing as ominously as a cinder cone volcano about to erupt. (Those usually explode from the gases trapped underneath its layers, ending up with a lot more fatalities than other volcano types.)

Man, I _really_ hate that guy.

12:44 011708


	3. Crawling in Place

Disclaimer: Haruhi Suzumiya no Yuutsu is the creation and property of Nagaru Tanigawa, etc. There are no monetary gains whatsoever, I assure you. (If you want proof, see me languish in my day job.)

**Extracurricular Activities**  
**  
**

Crawling In Place  
_February 5 / and hold, there is no sin but ignorance_

The enigmatic smile was back in place. He could feel it unfurling on his face, like the Cheshire cat's tail as it slid visible. Once in place, Koizumi Itsuki was the picture of benign wisdom, the right-hand man of Suzumiya Haruhi.

It was pissing off the left-hand man considerably.

Kyon's face was mildly expressioned, but the esper easily picked up his homicidal vibes. It amused him to no end, as the other never bothered to try concealing his thoughts. (He never acted on them either.)

Koizumi Itsuki kept the smile and Suzumiya-san approved.

It was added blessing, one could say.

020507 afternoon


	4. Vision is Dangerous

Disclaimer: Haruhi Suzumiya no Yuutsu is the creation and property of Nagaru Tanigawa, etc. There are no monetary gains whatsoever, I assure you. (If you want proof, see me languish in my day job.)

**Extracurricular Activities**  
**  
**

vision is dangerous  
_February 10 / and are forever damned with Lucifer_

Ordinarily, "skimpy" was a word one would associate with bikinis and playboy bunny attires, certainly not to one's own clothes. At the moment, though, they were little more than patches of leather and a number of strings and buckles that held stuff in place. It was amazing how stifling such a skimpy outfit could get. Then again, it could be the tight quarters and the over-the-top lighting that was slowly strangling him.

"Kyon!" came the grating voice-over. It didn't help ward his impending migraine. "What's with that scrunched up look on your face?! I said passion, PASSION--not constipation! You look like you're about to keel over from some nasty infection, geeze. What were you sick with anyway?"

I'm being blinded here, you idiot, he thought angrily. And yes, I should've stayed home. . . Damn that flu for not hitting hard enough!

"I suggest we do as we're told," came the voice of reason, much too near his ears. It made his spine prickle horribly. "The faster Suzumiya-san is contented, the faster we regain freedom."

That maybe be true, but it didn't make Kyon any less tempted to slug him right across that snarky grin of his.

"Koizumi-kun, angle your arm more acutely. Yes, yes, perfect! And Kyon, thrust your hips just a bit forward. I said, forward!"

What forward? Any more forward and he'll be flat on his face--or worse. How contorted did she want them to be?

"Urgh! It's all about symmetry, Kyon!" she grounded out as she marched around the various photographic paraphernalia scattered about the clubroom to make her way towards them. "It's something you don't seem to have a handle on. Do you know what separates a master from some mediocre dabbler?"

Sanity?

"Vision! One must have vision!" So saying, Haruhi grabbed both men by the waist and smashed them together. Poker face not withstanding, Kyon's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets as she dangerously hyperextended his back. The only thing supporting him was Koizumi's hand on his lower back which she next removed and rearranged--

"Oi! WATCH IT!"

--just a tad lower. The other hand she positioned hovering just over the junction of where Kyon's jeans began (and it was impossibly low-rise, mind), which with a discontented tsk of her tongue, she then moved up, a hairsbreadth over one mesh-shirted breast (Which was apparently cold. Go figure.) There was a certain tension in that semi-stooped position Koizumi was in. It might have been more uncomfortable than Kyon's pose, as his reluctant, half-smile was starting to quaver. In fact, it was probably as comfortable as hell.

Not that Kyon was feeling particularly sympathetic to that spineless bastard.

"What was her vision again?" he muttered, feeling just about ready to pass out.

"Light-bringer," Koizumi said weakly. "The various appetites of the great god Apollo. Something like that."

"How about fire, brimstone, and eternal damnation?"

"That's about right."

Which was all they were able to say before the master photographer repositioned them again like marionettes.

End.


	5. The Place Where the World Thins to Gossa

Disclaimer: Haruhi Suzumiya no Yuutsu is the creation and property of Nagaru Tanigawa, etc. There are no monetary gains whatsoever, I assure you. (If you want proof, see me languish in my day job.)

**Extracurricular Activities**

The place where the world thins to gossamer  
_Dec 31, 2010 / nautical dawn_

Between the emasculating cold and constant bobbing of the cramped contraption she called, "boat," he wasn't sure which gnawed more effectively at his fraying nerves. Man overboard would be a quick solution—begrudgingly, even Haruhi would call the whole endeavor quits if he attempted to die and would likely try to get him somewhere warm before the hypothermia became permanent.

Maybe. He didn't think prospect of dog-paddling in the stabbing winter of the sea worth the risk.

"Kyon, stop quivering," she command, waving the videocam to stress her displeasure. "You're ruining the misce en scene."

There was only so many ways to say he was freezing and seasick.

"What are we looking for?" he said instead, managing to shape words despite his chattering teeth. "The time of day where the fabric of the world thins to gossamer? The place where morning touches night? Sliders?"

The smirk made an appearance, but only briefly. "Not bad," she said. "But that's just incidental."

"You want to be the first person in Japan to see this year's sunrise."

"Again incidental." The smirk ghosted her face once more, before being replaced by a glower. "I hope you figure it out before the sun shows up, Kyon. Don't disappoint me."

He supposed he could admit it, what with the vastness of the skies' palette, the endlessness of the ocean that mirrored the above, and the hint of her nape that peeped in between the coils of her fluffy muffler. He didn't feel the need to tell himself he didn't really care why she decided she could bring only him in her rented coracle.

"Take care of me again this year," he said.

Surprise, definitely. He saw it before the grin came and the movement that would precede a hearty slap in the back. He could move fast sometimes, and did, catching her with an arm around her shoulder and thereby trapping the slapping arm.

"It's not as bad as long as you don't rock the boat, so stay still if you don't want me ruining your film with my puke."

"... You big baby."

He meant every word.


	6. Protective Gear

Disclaimer: Haruhi Suzumiya no Yuutsu is the creation and property of Nagaru Tanigawa, etc. There are no monetary gains whatsoever, I assure you. (If you want proof, see me languish in my day job.)

**Extracurricular Activities**

Protective Gear  
_January 12, 2011 / anonymous men catching a ride into the future_

There were several things wrong with the picture and that was only him assessing the situation as an average high school boy.

It was after dark. The sky over the wooded hills was a punchy purple and lent an eerie glow to the landscape, but it was still too dark for a bike ride. Riding a bike through an unfamiliar, winding highway was not the smartest thing he was ever forced to do. (Granted, someone's suggestion of getting glow-in-the-dark vests was taken.) Two teenage boys sharing one bicycle was wrong enough; once you factor in that the bicycle was made for a ten-year-old child and was the eye-gouging color of glittery pink, the wrongness just increased a hundredfold.

That wasn't even going into the absurdity of sharing a helmet.

"Ano," the person riding behind him sounded a bit uncomfortable-and that was saying something about the resident yes-man in their club. "Kyon, I think it's my turn for the helmet…"

It took a while for him to answer. "Aa," he said, limited in lung power at the moment. "Once we get over this hill."

"Of course, Kyon," came the reasonable answer.

If Koizumi remembered that he had already said that for about at least three hills now, he didn't say so.

Oh well.

"I don't understand why the girls each get their own bikes," he grumbled as they almost toppled when he hit a loose rock. Meanwhile, he had to share it with the smiley-faced bastard, who had claimed to be perfectly fine with the arrangement in front of their president.

"Suzumiya-san has a theory that most time-travelers and sliders would have to be male," Koizumi explained automatically. "Or at least, that would be the case if the human race in that given dimension sexually reproduces. A pregnant time-traveler, she thinks, can create a serious paradox. God forbid an important historical figure is born in the wrong era. It can lead to the end of all existence."

Did she tell you this or are you pulling this out of your-

"She hinted as much. She seemed to think the three of them are more likely to encounter something here, being that they are females."

Koizumi's voice hitched and his gesturing hand returned to clutching at his schoolmate's shirt. They had finally reached the apex of this particular hill and were now skidding swiftly down the other side. Kyon himself yelped but that was because the bastard's sudden grip pinched a bit of sensitive flesh near his underarm. The spot smarted like an oil burn the entire downhill trip, which somehow made him nervous about what the esper might have inadvertently done instead of being exhilarated by the ride.

"Sorry," said Koizumi once they were sure they weren't going to overshoot the zigzags and crash to their deaths. "Didn't mean to pinch you."

Kyon ignored the apology. "So she's thinking," he said. "That the reports of disappearing people aren't due to perverts or idiots who don't know their way in the woods, but are actually because of sexually-harassing time travelers or kidnapping sliders."

"Oversimplified, yes."

"Haruhi hates your details, FYI."

"Suzumiya-san did say something about needing live bait."

Essentially, their dictator was pimping out their female club members.

"They're each carrying mace spray," Koizumi supplied, as if it made things better. "The real kind."

And they weren't.

The esper chuckled. "I guess, it means Suzumiya-san isn't that concerned about _us_ getting sexually harassed by anonymous men in space suits."

The discomfort on the other guy's voice somehow irritated Kyon further. As if… Between the two of them, he should be the one getting scared.

"In this case, we're less valuable to Suzumiya-san because we lack wombs."

Koizumi's tone was just a tad forlorn enough to be creepy. Sometimes, the man's dedication to Haruhi-to what degree it was fabricated, Kyon didn't know-was disgusting. He had a point, however, about the girls being more attractive targets to the bad elements they should all be worried about instead.

"We should catch up with the girls," Koizumi said, as if reading his mind again.

Bastard sure had guts just saying that when he hadn't been the one pedaling both their weights for the last hour!

"I guess, we should trade places."

He was keeping the helmet, though.

"Suzumiya-san is reserving a spare helmet for a guest. I-I think I'll insist on burrowing it for the return trip."

"Suit yourself."

Damned yes-man.

-18:10 01122011


	7. Muddying Minds

Disclaimer: Haruhi Suzumiya no Yuutsu is the creation and property of Nagaru Tanigawa, etc. There are no monetary gains whatsoever, I assure you. (If you want proof, see me languish in my day job.)

**Extracurricular Activities**

Muddying Minds  
_January 24, 2011 / Poetry is the street talk of angels and devils_

It was during middle school when Kyon realized that the world had been losing its collective mind for a very long time now, but it was only at the start of high school did he figure that there were external factors driving the wild ride. He didn't need to look too far himself for proof.

It easily found him.

"Are you telling me that some of your espers actually go around visiting people in their dreams, making them think they're being spoken to by God?"

"Not necessarily; we are a non-denominational agency and we don't—"

"Whatever divine, supernatural being some poor bastard is susceptible to."

"It's a bit more roundabout than that."

"There's no roundabout it," Kyon retorted, irritated by the other's mysterious smile. "You're force-feeding your brand of nonsense to unsuspecting people."

"Well," Koizumi conceded. "I suppose a few of them are likely high-functioning schizophrenics—who knows? There are a lot of theological positions on it, but a common theme used to justify such suggestions is that what separates mankind from other living creatures is their ability to recognize the will of the singularity and act on it. It manifests in ones most secret thoughts, breeds there and grows.

"However, very few of us have enough self-possession to go around sharing thoughts we ourselves recognize to be foreign, so the purpose of such prophecies is to create a center for such thoughts to comingle and coalesce into a solid idea or notion, which can then spread to other of like mind.

"Think about it, Kyon. In many large-scale human tragedies or triumphs, it usually starts with a cataclysm, a new order that intolerably razes the old to the ground with a ravenous madness. "

"You mean like the Mayans wiping themselves out by constantly thinking the world's about to end?" Kyon finally interrupted.

"Invariably, the Agency's rivals are capable of using the same tactics. And of course, some more radical factions are more Mayan than others."

"So let's say a bunch of teenagers get high on some mutant fungus in a field somewhere. An esper can pick up their mass hallucinations as some sort of message from Haruhi, and somehow propagate it?"

Koizumi chuckled sheepishly. "There are several schools of thought on that, one being the fatalist notion that whatever revolution the Agency decides to nurture, it is only as the goddess wished it. My personal take is that history judges itself. I believe in a more benevolent divinity. Ah, checkmate."

Kyon grimaced down, absently rerouting the steps to how he lost. "… No wonder prophetic verses usually sound all cryptic and full of it," he muttered.

The esper merely laughed and began setting up the pieces for another game.

2248 01242011


	8. Going to hell but not actually staying t

Disclaimer: Haruhi Suzumiya no Yuutsu is the creation and property of Nagaru Tanigawa, etc. There are no monetary gains whatsoever, I assure you. (If you want proof, see me languish in my day job.)

**Extracurricular Activities**

Going to hell but not actually staying there  
_January 31, 2011 / The sciences sing a lullaby_

The balmy evening was punctuated by wisps of air, cool enough to raise goose pimples on his nape but not enough to make anybody in their party uncomfortable. Indeed, what with the clear, starry skies overhead, the rivaling brightness of the city view from Nagato's verandah, and the sight of two cute girls sleeping together (not like that), he had to admit it was almost a perfect summer night.

It would have been perfect without the threat of having to rinse-repeat through it unknowingly for god-knows how many times. And there's the rub. Never mind somehow ferreting out a reason and fixing things to the satisfaction of her royal painfulness, but did "god" herself even know what she wanted?

Koizumi had gone through several scenarios. Kyon had thought the idea of faking a confession was ridiculous, but the esper managed whip out even crappier ideas straight from his ass. He has sneaked a couple of beers with him and had offered one to Kyon with his usual enigmatic smile. Kyon wanted to hammer that smile off his face with the said beer can. He managed to resist and simply began sipping on their clandestine drink. After all, if Haruhi woke up from the sound of breaking bone, they're either going to have to sit through an ear-splitting lecture on underage drinking or they're all going to get in trouble in an operation to sneak off with some more.

"Perhaps, if Suzumiya-san herself is kept awake at the stroke of midnight of the 31st, her merely expecting that the 1st come will break the cycle."

"Sure," Kyon said sarcastically. "Let's drug her and keep her awake all night on a school night. I'm sure she'll let that slide. How about IV coffee?"

"Intravenous caffeine might work, " Koizumi mused. "But why stop there? Why not go for more interesting stimulants? Since the likelihood of this plan succeeding is close to nil, this should be perfect opportunity to experiment on pharmacologic amusements."

Kyon stared at the benign face of his school mate, trying to decide whether he was actually being dared by the man posing to be perfect.

"While we're at it, why not walk the even wilder side?" the esper asked, moving closer to his poker-faced friend. "Vandalism, petty theft, sleeping with prostitutes, cross-dressing, swinging the other way—"

Kyon decided was being mocked by this bastard, whose face was way too close to his, on top of everything else. Kyon resisted the itch to smash his fist on it, determined to avoid falling for the baited bullshit.

"Sordid one-night stands, gratuitously gushy confessions—"

"Bro-rape and homicide."

"There you go. And the most beautiful part of it is that there is absolutely no guilt involved. As long as we don't get caught by Suzumiya-san, of course. You game?"

The unruffled calm of the handsome man unnerved Kyon. A part of him wanted to say yes in the most nonchalant way possible just to show that ass clown he could play the same game, but there was a certain gnawing fear that actually freaked him out. What if the smiley-faced bastard actually called his bluff and challenged him to do any of the above.

At last, Kyon settled with a not-so suave, "Go to hell."

Koizumi merely laughed and let the subject drop. Even worse than losing against Koizumi's ribbing was the fact that Nagato probably heard everything and filed it way together with the other fifteen-thousand-plus repetitions of the conversation.

01312011

2331


	9. Bad Joke

Disclaimer: Haruhi Suzumiya no Yuutsu is the creation and property of Nagaru Tanigawa, etc. There are no monetary gains whatsoever, I assure you. (If you want proof, see me languish in my day job.)

**Extracurricular Activities**

Bad Joke  
_February 2, 2011 / found the dark in you_

Another Endless Eight iteration

They were in one of the setback terraces in Nagato's apartment building that summer night. This time it was for star gazing, though at this point, only the telescope had its lone eye to the heavens. Nagato sat neatly on a chair she had brought out earlier and was reading under the dim light escaping from indoors. The boys leaned over a boundary wall, talking quietly as they watch the moving lights of the city below them. The two other members of the SOS Brigade seemed conjoined by hair and limbs just beside them, using each other as pillows, their backs against the wall, their faces touched by moonlight.

There was no denying it but the sight of her and the always appealing Asahina-san tugged at his heartstrings the same way a bunch of cute puppies would any normal person in possession of a heart. This was better, because she was quiet, save for her deep, even breathing, and her face lacked that borderline maniacal grin she wore when hatching yet another scheme. The image, however, set off a bunch of other images in some dark room at the back of his mind, even as the rest of his functional brain struggled with how the Brigade could possibly get out of the time loop they were stuck in. Part of him squelched the unbidden fantasies as quickly as they took form, but the other patted the uncomfortable knot of guilt and horror indulgently, with an assurance that he was a healthy teenage boy and boys will be boys, even with one Suzumiya Haruhi.

He banished the images, anyway. (They burned into his memory, though, and were almost definitely retrievable, if he ever wanted them back.) There were other things he needed to focus on at the moment. In the words of Koizumi from a few nights back, it was an emergency and they were running out of time.

"What does she want anyway?" he asked in exasperation, turning away firmly from the two girls slumped adorably against each other.

"There's the rub now, isn't it?" Koizumi said with his calm. "If we had any way of knowing, we wouldn't be in this mess."

"It must be something she hasn't thought of herself," muttered Kyon. It was like trying to scratch the inner canal of his ear, which responding to the power of suggestion, was starting to itch now. "Like what?"

"Something basic and rooted in her subconscious?" the esper suggested. "How about you doing this?"

He pushed away from the terrace wall, came to step behind Kyon, and set both hands against the railing. Suddenly trapped in between concrete and his schoolmate, Kyon only had time to process curiosity and the usual irritation inspired by the other, before Koizumi leaned over and professed.

"I love you!"

Kyon shivered violently at having a) his personal space violated, and b) Koizumi's breath against his ear. He twisted around to glare at his schoolmate, while a pinky tried to scratch the damned inner ear canal. "What the hell—"

"Or I can do it," the esper interrupted magnanimously. He paused at Kyon's sudden stillness, then, smiled. "Of course, we're risking the end of the world in case she's not among the statistics of girls liking that sort of thing."

Kyon gawked at him, his brain slower on the uptake and only now filling with a different brand of images all together. The only reason why he didn't deck the smiley faced bastard right then was because he didn't want to risk waking up Haruhi. What if she _was_ part of the population that liked the sort of thing? Would Mr. Yes-man here go as far as to sexually harass him for the sake of completing his goddess's summer vacation? Would Nagato, overloaded by the thousands of repetitions of the last two weeks of summer vacation, turn a blind eye and feed him to this rabid dog, just to escape the temporal loop? Was he supposed to be a team player and just take it or would Haruhi actually want to see him try to fight and inevitably lose as this bastard degraded him? What sort of thing, was he talking about anyway?

"We'll only confuse poor Suzumiya-san," explained Koizumi, as if that should be their utmost consideration. "After all, neither of us—to my knowledge, at least—have ever hinted on romantic interest on Suzumiya-san and one of us pulls a confession out of the blue."

Kyon froze, discombobulated by the esper's seeming shift of direction, yet again. He stared at Koizumi another full minute, the accusation in his eyes boring relentlessly into the other's benign but unreadable face. I'm on to you, you conniving bastard, he wanted to shriek, but that would mean he exposing the degree of his freaking out over Koizumi's "demonstration," and perhaps even let slip the extent of his evidently overactive imagination.

"Unless, you really do want to confess to Suzumiya-san, but just never had the confidence to do so? Around now would be the perfect time to do it."

Kyon's eyebrow twitched, as he puffed a sigh and wiggled away from his odious friend. Embarrassed at his overreaction, Kyon walked to the opposite side of the rooftop. While interesting, he doubted Haruhi would be very happy if she lost a member to a swift vengeance that might just involve a long fall and a fatality.

"I love you, my ass," he muttered.

And he tried not to think about it, anymore.

02022011 23:54


	10. A Dead Lover or So

Disclaimer: Haruhi Suzumiya no Yuutsu is the creation and property of Nagaru Tanigawa, etc. There are no monetary gains whatsoever, I assure you. (If you want proof, see me languish in my day job.)

**Extracurricular Activities**

A Dead Lover or So  
_February 4, 2011 / I am seeing ghosts in everything I do_

Endless 8. Again.

"My first assumption was that I had died and was cycling through portions of my life in penance. It was the easier conclusion."

Yeah, but only you would think something that absurd.

"It was either that or I had somehow managed to reach heaven or nirvana."

"Ha?" Kyon wrenched his eyes away from their hiccupping, apparently grounded time traveler and glared at the esper. "Don't tell me you really did something unspeakable to Asahina-san, you bastard!"

Midnight phone calls from a mewling girl, whom you've crushed and fantasized on since the beginning of high school, followed by the uneasy voice of one smarmy guy everybody regarded as some mysterious lothario… it was almost easier to think that he needed to defend the delicate Asahina-san from the foul seduction of one Koizumi Itsuki (think of the rewards—or not; don't _think_ at all), but he had no such luck. Yet another leg to their Sisyphean task, as Koizumi called it, was to somehow decipher the mind of their fearless, irascible leader.

"Of course, not," Koizumi said with that smile. "The only thing I did was dial the phone for her, as she couldn't remember your number in her distraught state."

For some reason, that didn't relieve Kyon at all.

"So all those déjà vu sensations we've been feeling were from our multitude of counterparts occupying the same physical planes across more than fifteen thousand temporal ones. Is our being exception to the general rule because we were given permission to somehow remember, Nagato-san?"

"There is not enough data to establish causation," answered the bespectacled girl quietly. "That it is merely the inevitability of physical laws coming to play is a valid conjecture, but other possibilities cannot be excluded."

You're not gonna give me that being favored by the goddess rigmarole, are you?

"Not necessarily favor in the sense that we're special to her in a romantic way, Kyon. Perhaps, some part of her expects us to know the SOS Brigade Chief enough to figure it out?"

Anybody could spend 15,512 repeating two weeks of summer vacation with her _while _retaining their memory and still have no freaking clue what's going on in that head of hers.

"Still, it's no wonder that everything I did felt so familiar. Never quite an exact match to seem like a memory, but it's like seeing something from another vantage point, from somebody else's forgotten memory, painstakingly related to one from long ago. Somebody else's memory within ones memory... It's like having a dead lover, isn't it?"

He'll give him a dead lover. . . News flash, Koizumi: you're not dead! And no, you're not Haruhi's husband, either, or her reincarnated puppy. Enough with your out-loud fantasizing—it's pathetic!

More importantly, Kyon wondered if he had managed to brick this filibuster's mouth in any of their previous repetitions. More power to that Kyon, he thought fervently.

0739 020411


End file.
